In an effort to make myself feel better about the fact that our time in Vietnam is winding down (less than two months to go), I have decided to start a list of the things I will NOT miss about Vietnam. There are SO many things and people that I will be sad to leave behind that I thought it would be helpful to remind myself of some of the small joys I will find in daily life back in Vermont.
Beginning with the joy of addresses...
This is what I overheard in the classroom the other day when someone asked where to find the bike repair “shop.”
Go to the market at the light. You know where the first lady selling bananas is? Not the older one with one eye but the younger one? Okay. Go past her. Look for the smoothie lady on the right and then go, like, past three or four of the pho ladies – just past the one with the red seats. You’ll come to that really bumpy spot with all of the pot holes and usually a pile of bricks. Right near there there’s usually a little, old guy with a bag of tools crouching in the dirt. He’s your man. Now, if you can’t find him (or if he is sleeping and you can’t wake him up) you can check in the plastic basket shop across from the hair cutting chair under that tree with the yellow flowers (you know where the mean dog is?). Sometimes there’s a lady there who can call a guy that she knows who has a wrench…
Every request for directions yields a fifteen minute discussion based on landmarks around town. I can’t wait for the first time I am home and I ask where to find something, and I hear a number and a street name.
And, on a similar note, an address would be really handy for mail delivery. Since we can’t have people write a ten paragraph description of where our house is located (on a twisty path in the rice paddy near the ladies with the conical shaped hats and the water buffalo…the house that’s tall and skinny and has piles of rice drying on the sidewalk out front…the one with kids playing badminton out front and neighbors squawking at each other across the fence …next to the little trash fire…with the loose chickens and ducks running around), which would in, in fact, describe 50% of the houses in Hoi An, we still have our mail sent to the hotel where we first stayed last summer. If we need someone to come to the house to make a repair or deliver a tank of gas, we have to hand the phone to our neighbors who give that very description to someone on the other end in Vietnamese. Miraculously things and people always seem to make it here, but I look forward to the day I can just give someone an address and they can Map Quest me in a second.
And, on a similar note, an address would be really handy for mail delivery. Since we can’t have people write a ten paragraph description of where our house is located (on a twisty path in the rice paddy near the ladies with the conical shaped hats and the water buffalo…the house that’s tall and skinny and has piles of rice drying on the sidewalk out front…the one with kids playing badminton out front and neighbors squawking at each other across the fence …next to the little trash fire…with the loose chickens and ducks running around), which would in, in fact, describe 50% of the houses in Hoi An, we still have our mail sent to the hotel where we first stayed last summer. If we need someone to come to the house to make a repair or deliver a tank of gas, we have to hand the phone to our neighbors who give that very description to someone on the other end in Vietnamese. Miraculously things and people always seem to make it here, but I look forward to the day I can just give someone an address and they can Map Quest me in a second.
And continuing with insects (large and small)...
Earlier in the year, our class made paper mache volcanoes. I bought too much flour, so I left it sitting in the classroom for future projects. I picked up the bag the other day to discover no fewer than a thousand weevils burrowing around in flour heaven. I felt nauseous just looking at the squirming bag. More unsettling though was the local reaction: just freeze it and sift them out. My gag reflex kicked into overdrive.
Ants are the next insect on my “hasta la vista baby” list. Now that the sun is back, so are the ants. They are tiny, and they are everywhere. Our kitchen counter crawls with them. The sealed Tupperware of cookies in the refrigerator is victimized by the persistent pests. Any crumb of food left unattended will attract the minions in a matter of milliseconds. Brianna swears they give off a particular odor when she squishes them, and, sadly, from time to time she will taste “said” odor when munching on a snack. We are way past the “extra protein” attitude. It’s just gross.
And then there are the cockroaches the size of taxi cabs that arrive after dark. The other night I flipped on the light in the kitchen and caught one driving across the middle of the kitchen floor. I stomped on it with a vengeance (mostly because I was petrified that it would be one of those immortal monsters that comes back to haunt you from the world of the undead). Once I was convinced that it was not only merely dead but really most sincerely dead, I decided to leave it in the middle of the kitchen as a warning to all other cockroaches on the premises: mad woman bent on inflicting pain and destruction will kill you at the first opportunity. Naturally when I came back downstairs fifteen minutes later, there was an army of about seventeen million ants marching across the floor with the cockroach held high above their heads – celebrating their good fortune.
Stay tuned as the list grows…
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